Some Like It Hot
by tore-my-yellow-dress
Summary: "That felt good," she whispers throatily. "What were you doing, exactly?" Set during S3.


**A/N: This is ALL for Steffi. Love that chick. She has been sick and needs TLC and one prompt turned into this sucker. To all readers, I am going to prescribe a shot of holy water after reading, and call the Pope in the morning. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Sweat drips down the curve of her rippling skin, and she can hear the air conditioner kick on from far away. Thick, cream colored sheets offset the flushed pallor of her skin, even her fingers, and she lets her vision haze, heart still thumping loudly in her ears. Something of a high still surging through her veins, of pleasure and contentment and fulfillment. Happy.

She still hasn't entirely regained control of her breathing.

The entire world has reduced to the way he draws his fingers up and down the curve of her spine.

She's spread out like an offering across his chest, her cheek turned into the crease of his collarbone, and they smell good to her, somehow. The few wayward lovers she had in college, at Georgetown, even Peter, really, had always drove something within her after sex, made her want to stand and shower and rid herself of the nose wrinkling smell of perspiration and heat. Even Peter knows she likes to bathe after a particularly energized session beneath the sheets. But not now.

Maybe it's because she is older, and her bones are already starting to ache from the years, maybe it's because she is resigned to the facts, but no. Maybe not. If Will could hear her thoughts he would drag her beneath him again, make her moan and writhe, expose the newfound passion clinging to every cell in her body. The lust and drive that became prudent three months ago, when this affair began. He would prove to her just how _youthful _she is. Despite the lines forming around her eyes. Despite the Caitlins with their bright ensembles and perky tongues.

Alicia Florrick is not an insecure woman,-

and through the tapes and the talk shows and the _have you seen the damn woman, she looks frigid_

-that remains true.

Honest because even now, Alicia recognizes that if she runs her tongue along the soft spot behind Will's ear, he'll sigh. Twenty years ago she wouldn't have been attuned enough. Twenty years ago it wouldn't have made her hold herself up, her rosy nipples inches from his mouth, rubbing herself around on him, a little like a purring cat. No, twenty years ago she wouldn't have cared.

Will presses a kiss to the crown of her head as an afterthought, eyes on the ceiling.

She can't blame him, really. Court was vicious. The judge wasn't on their side.

"You liked this," Will ascertains suddenly, his never ending trace of her spine lingering below a few inches. He squeezes one of her cheeks in his hand, drifting past, fingers edging between the soft crevice. Alicia cringes away before she can help herself. He pulls his hand away like he's been slapped.

"Sorry," he apologizes rushedly, brown eyes sincere. "You responded well to it when we were… so I thought…"Will trails off, looking down.

Alicia doesn't mean to, she really doesn't. She's a goddamn grown woman.

But she blushes, just a bit.

"I hadn't realized. I was very…_in the moment," _she chooses her words carefully, burrowing herself a further into his chest to assure him it's okay, she's not offended. Will's ribcage is still tensed, and she knows he's feeling bad about the intrusion. He's strange, sometimes. Her boss, the partner at one of the best law firms in Chicago, assertive and courageous. But with her, sometimes, he gets this look, he gets this demeanor that takes her back to Georgetown, like a boy trying to put on a brave face but failing miserably. He is as unsure with her as she is with him. It's comforting, somehow.

Alicia licks her lips and leans back a little, studies the white plaster on the ceiling.

They have the hotel room until morning, but Alicia can only stay another half hour, at the most.

Grace is having friends over.

"I tried it. Once," she admits lightly, soft and reminiscing. He looks at her face, studies the way her jaw works when she's talking. He wishes he could take a picture of her like this. Alicia looks so beautiful.

"It wasn't very good," she admits, shame coloring her tone. Will frowns.

"Were you not prepped well?" he asks before he can help himself. Then he clenches his teeth, wants to pinch himself for not having more tact. It's not that she's prudish. He knows Alicia isn't prudish in the slight. But she likes…subtle. Alicia likes to tease and be called filthy things, but she likes it on her terms, likes to be in the moment when it happens. They have a lot of sex.

They don't talk_ about _all the sex they have.

There's something vaguely high school about it all.

Jeez. He must sound like an educational teacher. But before he can take it back, Alicia answers. Alicia answers and begins to let loose and it shuts him up.

"I couldn't relax," she remembers, brow furrowing. She's still looking away, over at the air conditioner near the wall, at the side table littered with his wallet and a bottle of water, anywhere but him. "No matter what we did, I couldn't relax, so eventually we just…gave up."

There's that shame, again. It's quiet and unassuming, but something about the way Alicia states it all like facts in a case makes his stomach clench, makes him want to punch Peter Florrick in the jaw. It had to have been Peter Florrick. The way Alicia talks, that timbre, Will knows it. Will knows Alicia would have trusted Peter enough to be that intimate. Will knows Peter would have let her down miserably, the bastard he is.

"I guess you_ were_ pretty relaxed just now," he breathes in deeply, smiling comfortingly despite the raw anger bubbling in his chest, territorial, almost, and she glances over at him, doesn't fully turn to face him. Will rubs small, soothing circles on her arm. Alicia purses her lips.

"It felt good," she whispers throatily. "What were you doing, exactly?"

Will's eyes widen, mouth parting. "You needed a little extra help. And I couldn't reach around, so I just…improvised."

He shrugs his shoulders, face contorting in awkwardness. He's trying not to make it awkward. He's trying. Unbeknownst to him, Alicia recalls him slapping the flesh of her bare ass two, three days ago. Can still hear the sound echo in the hotel room. She shifts her legs beneath the sheets, trying to get a handle on herself. That had felt good for her, too.

Alicia's phone begins to sound off her daughter's shrieking, obnoxious message. It goes straight to silent before Alicia can even get up to get it. She groans loudly.

"I gotta go," Alicia grimaces, moving.

He hates the way he wants her to stay, hates that he wants her in his bed every hour for the next twenty or so years. Sadly, he's reminded of the fact this isn't his actual bed. She's in her bra and panties when she suddenly looks at him pointedly, hands hovered over her grey slacks.

"What if I said I wanted to try it?" she asks him, sounding half business and half coy, like she'd been with jealous and Celeste and another hotel room, another secret night. That's the tone she's using.

It makes him want to explode, that coquettish tang. It's like she's deliberately drawing him out. He bites the inside of his cheek and his knuckles go white around the pillow with restrained need. A compact burst of desire and endorphins and _something _in his unfocused gaze. The look he gives her makes her legs feel like unsteady support beams. The slightest tip and the whole house comes crumbling down.

Will knows what game she's playing.

Will puts on his best poker face.

"Let's see what we can arrange."

/

The door swings open.

Alicia holds her breath.

She doesn't know what she's expecting, really.

A poisonous snake to jump out at her, maybe.

His instructions had been simple enough, and she didn't even bother to ask why certain items were necessary it was so easy, doesn't know why even as he stands before her, looking open and casual in jeans and a button down shirt, why the mere connotation of him has her heart going a mile a minute. Will smiles at her, right as rain. He's equipped with a handfuls of confidence, and she's still measuring her own out in teaspoons. Mixing them up into her coffee, and it still always tastes a little bitter.

Alicia Florrick tells herself this is the silliest thing she's ever been nervous about.

She doesn't think she was this unsure on her wedding day, for God's sake.

And Will sees it. It's written all over her face.

His smile immediately vanishes. "Leesh," he shakes his head, lets her inside and shuts the door behind them. The room is different than what he usually gets them. Bigger, far more luxurious. The text she'd received the night before had arrived welcome and accepted. Grace and Zack were with Peter for the weekend. They'd done this before, anyway, spent long weekends in bed together, in one another's vicinities. It was the glory of having an affair. They could relish in one another's presence and no one would judge them. There were no hassles of anniversaries or dates or holidays.

But this feels special, with the gold pillows and the warm, heated ambiance.

This feels real in a way that makes her stomach twist.

Guilt snickers in her ear.

"We don't have to-

"No," she flips around, calms herself enough to speak again, less flighty. She needs to get a firm grip on her instability. That's what she tells herself. This isn't a big deal. It isn't. Just last night she'd pondered the past over a glass of wine, imagined all the things Peter and Amber and whoever else had the guts to do in the bedr-

But, no. This isn't about Peter. Peter is the farthest thing from her mind right now.

"Will," she starts, dropping her tote filled with items to the side, by the small couch and chair. She strides over to him and wraps her arms around his neck, inhaling the familiar scent and struggling not to do the cat rub thing. Jesus, she feels fifteen around him. Hormonal.

"Will, I want this."

She pushes away the thousands of butterflies beating a ballet in her left ventricle, quells the urge to run at the mere impression of trust, and _trusts. _Her trust is a broken thing, by now. With its frayed wings and its stung beauty. But she believes in Will. She knows he won't let her fall.

She won't admit she loves him, but she'll admit there's a part of her that very much wants to.

"I want this," she repeats, leaning up to bite his earlobe, kiss his neck.

Will's nod is still hesitant, but his hands go to the hem of her blouse, regardless.

He pulls up.

/

Alicia drags her arms toward her so that her head is lying to the side, perched atop them.

She's on her stomach.

She's completely naked.

She's not terrified _at all. _

With difficulty swallowing, she focuses solely on Will, down to his boxers, tearing the plastic seal off the bottle in his hand. "Was that okay?" she inquires, a shake in her voice. "I got what looked like the brand people buy, and I think-

"This is perfect," he assures her, squirting a little bit of it into his hands and rubbing his palms together until it warmed with his skin. He moves over to the bed and sinks his knees down onto it, scooting forward until he's got one thigh on either side of her body.

Alicia closes her eyes. "Will, I know you said to get on my stomach, but I think maybe it would be better if I was-

Gentle fingers prod flesh of her lower back, right along the spot that _kills _her at the end of a long day. Alicia whines, then her eyes shoot open. The pressure is good, makes her toes curl and her neck roll.

"I'm getting a massage," she realizes aloud, after about ten seconds of being touched.

Will chuckles heartily, and the pleasant sound makes her own lips tug heavenward.

"I told you I'd make you feel good," he gloats, the dexterity in his fingers speaking for him. His fingers crawl up her back to her shoulders and the back of her neck, and Alicia can feel the cotton of his underwear on her body. She inhales deeply. Wriggles her butt beneath him.

Will hisses.

She does it again.

Then, he moves down. Quickly. Flits his fingers past her lumbar region and on down, to the skin of her upper thighs. He begins to knead them, and the release of tension is so sudden she arches, her hips and pelvis raising in the air. Legs parting without her consent. The air of the hotel room is cozy enough that she knows he has control over the thermostat, but never the less, when it hits her wetness, hot and dripping all the way onto her inner thigh, Alicia lets out a breathy keen.

Will growls, the sound rolling over her body in a way that makes her want to cut the rope that so thinly holds her control to reality. "God, I love your ass."

Her heart skips a beat.

"Oh," she breathes, moving her body so that she's pressing more into his hands. They crawl up her thighs, settle upward. He strokes ass gently, almost lovingly, before pinching one of her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. Alicia's mouth forms a wide circle, her hand going to grip the comforter.

"I love your whole body," he tells her, honestly, like it's the weather or the sports scores, running his hands over her steadily. The oil makes everything tingle, and the smell is heavenly. It surrounds her, permeates her nostrils with vanilla and brown sugar. Her ears are perk at his words, a rush of adoration coming over her. At his approval, however juvenile it might be.

Will continues, the words jutted between sharp inhales. "But sometimes when you're in court, in heels and a tight little skirt, I want to bend you over and smack your ass, right there in front of everybody. Perfect."

The slap makes her flesh sing, and that's all it takes.

Alicia convulses, dripping between her thighs and ready, so ready-

"Please, just," she pants, twisting around to look him in the eye, look at the way he eyes her, orbs near black with lust. Alicia bites her lip harshly, narrows her eyes at the way he strains through the material of his boxers. "Will," she squirms, blowing her bangs away.

He reaches over to grab the plastic container, flips it open and liberally coats his fingers, chafing them together to make it more usable. The realization hits Alicia like a ton of bricks.

But more like a sharp, white iron of heat, quelling in her belly and spreading out into her limbs. Chasing out any uncertainty. Need. That's need. Alicia spreads her legs even more, gaping open, burying her forehead in the bedspread and looking back and him expectantly.

The first touch makes her clench. It's not anywhere near where she needs it, and maybe that's half the journey. He runs his thumb along the crack and pushes past, moves down to rest there, temporary. The first dip of his thumb makes her wince. Sharply.

She looks at him. Looks and him and only him.

The hair falling across his forehead. The want in his eyes, with her spread out before him like this.

He slides in knuckle deep, just one finger. Pulls out, moving back in again. Alicia grunts, and Will's persistent attention is instantly on her, all for her, his forehead wrinkling in concern.

"No. It's okay," she gasps. The green in her gaze is more moss than storm, and she's got her lips puckered in concentration. Same kind of pursuit she'd have for work. Determined.

Will adds another finger.

The feeling of being stretched is enough to take her breath away.

"Fuck," she swears, the curse rolling off her tongue without filter. She rarely ever talks like this, but it's just. It's intense. It's a lot.

"You okay?" he murmurs softly, leaning down to press a kiss to freckle on her right shoulder blade.

His fingers are still buried inside her, but he's not moving. The heat between her legs is _throbbing. _

"Yeah," she gasps, eyes rolling into the back of her skull, trying to postulate the proper response, if anything is proper anymore. "Will, I think I need more."

He looks like he's going to pass out, nodding, dumbstruck. Slides his ring finger beside the others with one slow dig. He waits for her to cry out or tell him it hurts, but she doesn't, just squeezes her eyes shut and moves back against him. He's hit by the ethereal knowledge that this put together, honest woman is unraveling before him. She's unraveling and spreading her legs to make him go deeper, and he's the one who's getting that kind of reaction out of her. Will is so hard it hurts.

He pulls his hand out of her with one short pop.

She coughs out a whine, something strangely like a sob, and tears her eyes open, fixing him with an outraged look. "_Will_-

He moves off the bed, tearing down his boxers and struggling to open the lube in his trembling grip, sighing when his hands finally reach down to stroke his erection once, twice. He looks over at the woman lying on the bed and tries to hold himself together. Tries.

"Alicia," he catches her attention, something feral in his tone. "Alicia, you need to get on your hands and knees."

She realizes he's serious.

Without much thought, her limbs move to accommodate, something metal in her mouth. He moves behind her, lets the tip of his erection rest against the swell of her. Alicia thinks he's never felt so big, so straining. She grits her teeth and tastes blood where she's bitten her tongue by accident.

"I'm clean," she murmurs abruptly, and he stops. Strokes the skin of her lower back.

There's a reason she says this, assures him.

"I know," Will whispers, something somber. "I am too."

She'd worked out with him means of birth control weeks ago. This is different. There's a lot that they're saying. There's a lot they won't dare speak aloud. There are a few moments like this that they have, they've always had them, where it's like for one moment they can just be. No words necessary.

Just be.

But that second passes, and Will aligns himself, tip wet against her.

"You're perfect," he mouths. She doesn't know he does.

It is better she doesn't know he says this.

Still, there's a smile on her lips, waiting. He bares down an inch. Feels like ten.

He bares down, and she starts moaning.

/

She thinks it feels like being impaled on a log.

In the best way possible. Full, to the brink. There isn't another synonymous way to say it. There aren't words to describe how it feels to have him deep, touching parts of her that no one has ever touched, making her beg and fall apart and losing that control she has perfectly sculpted.

She never knew she could feel that much.

Later, that's the only way she can describe it. But there's a time, in the moment, him still and jaw ticking, digging his fingers into her hipbones so hard his nails are leaving purple crescents. There's a time when she is bucking back against him, fucking herself to feel the stretch, the delicious painful pleasure. There's a time when sweat is pouring from her cells and all she can think is him, him, him.

It ends with Will reaching around, pushing his hands between her legs. Finding her clit that swells and aches. She hasn't even thought about that, so needy and pulsing, hasn't even thought about that until he is suddenly touching her all wanton and good, pinching and rubbing. Alicia throws her head back. Mouth open. Can't stop making these high pitched, short cries. He buries his head in her shoulder.

Bites down.

He marks her, for the first time. In the physical sense, at least.

He leaves her body and there is a part of her that is wholly and undeniably _empty._

Maybe, just maybe, she's been marked for a long time. Maybe she just didn't know it.

/

The temperature outside the hotel room is freezing. Well, just about.

They pad through the hotel hallways, and he's got a couple white towels in his hands. The private floor is open until midnight. It's only ten, and their intentions are clear.

Alicia tenses when they get into the elevator, a part of her afraid someone is going to find them like this. As it is, Will simply pulls her against him with his free arm, curls her into his grip. Holds her.

She leans back against his chest and watches the numbers climb.

She feels boneless.

She feels like a part of her belongs to him, like some naïve teenager losing her virginity. She feels like she's given him something, and she knows how silly that sounds, she knows. She knows this isn't going to last. She knows she has no right. She knows.

But instead of thinking about that, Alicia Florrick lets Will Gardner take her hand and guide her through the steamed room. Everything smells of chlorine.

The towels are set aside on a bench. Will locks the door.

Questioning, unsure toes dip into water.

Alicia lets out a squeal, something she hadn't realized she was still capable of. She feels twenty three again, with Will at that lake, at that pool party. "God, it feels good," she tells him, and sinks one ankle into the water. Settles herself down, just as he's getting in as well.

She moves so that she's half in his lap, her legs dangling across the vast tub. The jets are blasting, and the warmth eases the ache in her muscles. Alicia sighs loudly, letting her head drop against his chest. She'd put her hair up, back in the hotel room, but she knows the humidity will make it curl up, all the same. A few strands tickle his face, and he runs his mouth along her neck.

It's not sexual. It's comfort.

They've been in this, whatever this is, long enough to know the difference.

"So," she starts, yawns. Will grins boyishly.

"I wore you out," he notes, something like satisfaction there. Alicia struggles not to roll her eyes, but in the end, she's honest. She can afford honesty, right now.

"You did," Alicia agrees, and Will smirks into her skin, running his hands along the crimson straps of her bikini. "You like?" she teases.

All he does is hum in the back of his throat. Alicia sinks deeper into the water. "What's next on the list, Mr. Gardner? Chains and whips? You've corrupted me," she simpers, poking his thigh with her nail.

He snorts. "Don't play innocent. Nothing about you is weak and defenseless. I think you might've come out of the womb ready for court."

She laughs, high off the feeling. She leans in and kisses him on the lips. Soft, quick. Like a habit. Being with Will Gardner is a risk, but it's one she chooses to take, all worth and sweet. Perfect. She feels perfect when she's in his arms. Wanted. Adored. And she feels the same way. She's not ready to say it, but she does. A part of her needs it too.

Alicia can't fathom regretting this.

Alicia lays her head in the crook of her neck, embracing him and being held. Giving and being given to.

He is starting to feel like home.

"Have I ever told you about the first time I was in court?" she wonders aloud.


End file.
